


A Time for Healing

by IMtrinity



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky in Wakanda, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 07:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20004250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMtrinity/pseuds/IMtrinity
Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve takes Bucky to Wakanda to hopefully heal and recover from his ordeal.





	A Time for Healing

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS for Captain America, The Winter Soldier, and Civil War, and some Black Panther. No references to Infinity War or End Game. All mistakes are my own. Comments much appreciated!

Steve leaves Wakanda four days after Bucky goes back into cryo. He is torn between a searing type of guilt for leaving, and an immense relief in the knowledge that his friend would stay safe and hidden. He trusts that T’Challa and his family will do everything in their power to not only protect Bucky, but to help him. He doesn’t dare use the word cure; that would be almost too much to hope for.

***

On the way to Wakanda, in T’Challa’s jet, Bucky is mostly in and out of consciousness, and thankfully the flight is not a long one. Steve is both impressed and amazed at the technological advancement and speed of the jet, the sheer quiet of it. He didn’t expect the help when he came across T’Challa with an unconscious Zemo lying in the snow. He would have dragged Bucky across Siberia to safety if need be. But T’Challa merely grabbed Bucky’s other side and together they assisted him to the jet.

Steve doesn’t say much either, his whole body on edge even now, his eyes roaming from the skies to Bucky’s still form, blood congealing on his face. Vitals are taken on the jet with surprising news-no broken bones, no blood clots, just a minor case of concussion. Tony did a number on him and still Bucky is more or less intact. 

It is T’Challa that finally breaks the silence. “What did they do to him?”

Steve’s whole body tenses before realizing T’Challa is in the dark almost as much as anyone else. He hates the way his voice wavers, the bitterness dripping from every word.

“Everything.” He takes a deep breath. “They tortured him and brainwashed him and turned him into their personal weapon. And they’ve been doing it for over seventy years. And I didn’t know. Shield, Hydra, the Soviets, hell the US government. They all did this to him. And I didn’t even realise…”

T’Challa stays silent for so long Steve thinks that might be the end of it. He is so damn tired anyway. Physically, mentally, he is just about done. But then he hears the King say, softly, kindly, “He is lucky to have someone who will fight for him. Who would die for him.”

Steve looks miserable as he stares back. “I can’t fight something I can’t see.” T’Challa merely nods and places a hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “We will help him. In Wakanda, we have a chance to truly help him. I promise to do everything in my power to assist in his recovery.”

Steve is overwhelmed, a sudden spark of hope rising up inside him. “Thank you,” he says in wonder, still not able to see the possibility in front of him. T’Challa goes back to the controls. 

“We will take it from here, Captain Rogers.”

***

Bucky is on board with the plan, even though it means another round in cryo. He merely shrugs at that. “Used to it, by now,” and Steve resists the urge to tear everything down around them. 

“It’s better this way, Steve,” he says softly. “I can’t trust my own mind right now. And I can’t trust myself with anyone around.” The last part is almost bitter, and for the millionth time, Steve tries to reassure him. “It wasn’t you, Buck.” But his friend will not meet his eyes. They sit in ugly silence until Shuri comes to escort Bucky to the Cryo Chamber. 

Steve almost doesn’t watch- _can’t_ watch- but in the end, for Bucky, he forces himself to meet Bucky’s eyes until the glass frosts over and bile rises in his throat and then he turns around and nearly throws up. 

***

Shuri is kind. She’s spunky and a genius and just so, so kind. As Steve sits in stony silence she carefully explains what she has found, and what the next steps will be.

“The scans on his brain were...troubling. I’ve honestly never seen these results before and it might take some time to fully map out the root of the problem. But this is why he is here, Captain Rogers,” she states after seeing the turmoil on his face. “I will fix him, I promise you.” She says this with absolute certainty and Steve can’t help but get his hopes up.

“The serum you told us about is quite an amazing accomplishment and that would explain why he is so strong and fast and also why he retains so few injuries. His cells are basically regenerating at an accelerated pace, very similar to yours, Captain. But the formula is also different than the one I found from the blood sample you provided.”

A screen suddenly materializes out of thin air, and an image of Bucky’s torso takes shape. She blows it up so they can both easily see. “When you hit something, Captain, eventually pain receptors trigger in the brain and you will feel it. But the serum inside your friend is a bit different. It was formulated so that the body does not respond to the pain receptors. He was built for the long haul, so to speak.”

Steve’s nostrils flare in rage. “A perfect killing machine.”

“Yes,” Shuri says softly.

After that Steve doesn’t hear much, but he appreciates her efforts and her skills. Before he leaves, she lays a hand against his shoulder, like her brother had. “I do not say this lightly, or unkindly. Your friend has suffered unspeakable horrors. I will do everything I can to help him, I swear this. I do not mean to brag, but there has never been a puzzle I have not been able to solve.” He gives her a lopsided smile and clasps her hand where it still lies on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Shuri, I believe you will do what you can. It’s just really hard to leave him like this, after I just got him back. Can I… can I say bye to him?” She nods softly and takes him to the Chamber.

***

He places his palm against the freezing glass. He can just barely make out the darkened silhouette beneath it. “Hold on, Bucky. Hold on for me. I’m coming back for you, I swear it.”

Ice crystals form under his palm, stinging the sensitive skin but he ignores the pain. Ignores everything but the man beneath his palm, just out of reach.

***

When Bucky wakes up, he knows something is off. It is far brighter than it should be, the air not so stale, and most importantly, he can move his limbs. He makes no move, however, to bolt, and instead slows his breathing so he can properly concentrate. It is eerily quiet, but there are low hums and beeps around him.

A soft memory surfaces of him getting placed into the cryo chamber, but again the memory is off; different. He tries to remember why everything feels so strange, when he hears an accented voice to his left.

“Welcome back, Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky opens his eyes and sees a young woman, dark skinned, a multitude of impressive braids through her hair. She is wearing a lab coat of sorts and is smiling down at him. The smile is genuine and friendly, and nothing like what Bucky was used to seeing upon waking up.

His eyes are still a bit blurry from sleep but habit makes him scan the room and his surroundings. He is confused by all that he sees, and he hears a soft huff of laughter.

“I know. It must be jarring for you. Please, relax a moment and tell me what you last remember.”

Bucky swallows, his throat parched and unused. “Where am I?” he finally manages.

“You are in Wakanda. You were brought here for medical treatment. Do you remember who brought you here?” Her voice is patient and slightly mesmerizing. He frowns in concentration, tries to unjumble all that’s floating around in his mind. He remembers the name Wakanda, at least. The name isn’t foreign to him, to his past. But why is he here? 

It suddenly comes to him, as memories often do, and he freezes as he is overcome with an array of images. He recalls the fighting, and the pain, the loss of his- He suddenly looks down with a sickening awareness. Instead of the familiar glint of metal arm, he sees nothing to his side and he lifts his flesh arm to his left shoulder as if that would make it real, and feels the hard metal stump of what is left. He goes to sit up.

“Woah, hold it right there, Sergeant.” The woman- no, _girl,_ because she is so young, places her hand upon his chest, stilling his movement. “Please relax, and I will explain everything.” Her hand on his chest is hilarious because Bucky could snap her wrist in two seconds flat and….

He stills, swallowing hard. His head is pounding suddenly, and he feels physically ill for the dark, poisonous thoughts flitting through his mind. He lays still, screwing his eyes shut. “How did I get here,” he softly asks.

“Steve Rogers brought you here, on one of our jets. My brother, T’Challa, brought you to me and after discussing it, we all agreed that it would be for the best if you were placed in cryo, at least until we could heal you.”

Bucky remembers all that. It usually takes a while, and sometimes the memories never come back, but all this he remembers. The thought is both comforting and unnerving. “How long was I under?”

“Four months.” She takes her hand off his chest finally and he watches her as she fiddles on her tablet. She then goes to a nearby workstation and comes back holding something in her hand. Bucky instinctively freezes, his body going taut.

“Relax, these are just sensors to measure your vitals.” She places a small round sensor on his chest, one on his forehead and another along his forearm. She is pleased with what she sees broadcast on a screen beside her and removes the sensors immediately after.

“You are in great health, Sergeant. No trauma, fever, or infections.”

“I don’t get sick,” he tells her automatically. She smiles at him and there is a playfulness to it that sets him at ease.

“That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve spent months looking at your DNA and it is quite fascinating. I have never seen anything quite like it and that includes your friend Rogers. His is quite similar but yours was modified and it took me a while to decode it all but I am pleased to finally be able to tell you in person.” Her smile is bright and excited, and Bucky can’t help but smile back, though it never quite reaches his eyes. Then another thought strikes him.

“Wait, you said I’ve been out for four months. Did you wake me because you’ve found a way to cure me?” He hears the hope in his own voice and mentally cringes for sounding so pathetic and optimistic. But the girl’s smile never waivers. “I am very confident I can cure you, Sergeant.”

***

Bucky finally discovers the girl’s name is Shuri. She is King T’Challa’s sister and at seventeen, a genius of unimaginable depth. She assists him with his lapse in memory from just before he was put under, and gives him a light meal of broth and bread. 

As he eats, he thinks of Steve. He thinks of Tony Stark and how they nearly killed each other, remembers the searing shock and pain of his arm wrenched and torn from his body, the appendage a part of him for so long it might as well be flesh and blood. Remembers Steve dropping his shield in defiance, grabbing Bucky and dragging him out of the Hydra Compound. Coming across T’Challa outside in the cold, a contrite and sympathetic look to his eyes, so different from when he was trying to kill Bucky. 

He sighs at the barrage of memories. It feels like too much, but his body has been trained to confine the rage and the restlessness. He still remembers so much from before. He remembers what they did to him. What he was made to do. 

He suddenly misses Steve. Wonders where he is and how he is doing. He can barely remember the man, but he remembers how fiercely Steve tried to protect him. To shield him. He tore apart the Avengers for his loyalty to Bucky, despite learning exactly who and what the Winter Soldier was. And right now, Steve is Bucky’s only friend in the world.

***

Shuri runs some more tests on Bucky throughout the day, sometimes frowning, sometimes smirking like she’s discovered some great secret. Before dinner time, her brother stops by.

“I heard you were awake, Sergeant Barnes,” he says by way of greeting, and extends his hand. Bucky takes it, gives it a hard shake, a lopsided smile on his face. “Bucky, please. Thanks again for all this, your Highness.”

“T’Challa, please,” the king responds with a smile. “It is the least I can do. I hope you are comfortable and you’ve had food sent?” He directs the last bit to Shuri, who rolls her eyes. “Out, brother, I will take care of everything, as usual. When I have more news I will send for you.”

T’Challa merely grins at her insolence. “You are in the greatest hands, Bucky, but I do apologize for my sister in advance.”

“Out!” Shuri barks, and Bucky can’t help but smirk at the siblings. T’Challa bows mockingly and makes his leave. 

“You must forgive my brother, Sergeant, he never grows old of teasing me,” she scowls down at her datapad.

“Bucky.” 

She looks up at him, somewhat unsure. “Bucky…”

He smiles back at her. The more he hears that name, the more he feels like it belongs to him. It certainly sounds better than the Asset. Shuri is all business again. “Okay, tomorrow morning we will begin the process of eliminating the trigger words from your cerebral cortex. I have looked into numerous ways to accomplish this and given your excellent health, I feel confident in the approach I’ve designed for you.”

Bucky nods slowly, not really bothering with further questions. He doesn't ask about the potential pain or trauma. After all, what is pain to him? He is just glad to get started. “Have you told Steve any of this?”

Shuri shakes her head. “No. I wanted to check with you first before reaching out to Captain Rogers.” Bucky thinks on it for a moment. He wants to talk to Steve, badly. But he wants this to work first. He wants to give Steve some good news before getting in touch.

“Let’s wait and see if this works first,” he decides. Shuri just nods in agreement. “It will work. For now, let me show you where you will be staying.”

She takes him to a room in the tower, not too far from the Medical Center. It is very simply furnished, but fairly modern with steel finishes on the narrow bed and desk, as well as the windows and door. It is a bit clinical for Bucky’s taste but he doesn’t say much, other than to thank Shuri. She leaves him alone to rest, promising him dinner will be arriving soon.

Then he is alone with only his thoughts for company and he is suddenly tense with exhaustion. His nerves feel frayed and he idly wonders if it’s the procedure he’s nervous about, or the potential failure of it. Brittle nerves are a novelty to him. As the Winter Soldier there was an absence there, an emptiness that defied logic. To feel nervous, or anxious or fear… it was unheard of and ultimately punished for, if there was any doubt. 

But now there is a stirring inside him, his heart perhaps beating a bit faster. He lies down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, tries to quell the unfamiliar feeling inside him. Before long, he is asleep.

***

Bucky dreamed last night, but it was a jumble of incomprehensible images and sounds, and he wakes up agitated and restless. He isn’t used to dreaming. He was never out of cryo long enough for his mind to revert back to what passed for normal. He tries to shake it off as he is escorted to the lab in the morning.

Shuri is already there and she smiles up at him as he walks in. He takes a look around, and notices the new piece of equipment, one that wasn’t there yesterday. Bucky knows it isn’t the same chair. Knows it is safe and different, and that no harm will come to him. He knows all this. But he freezes anyway. Stops dead in his tracks and feels the room spinning. Shuri is by his side in an instant.

“It’s alright, Bucky, I’ve got you. I promise it will be alright.” Before he knows what is happening she is guiding him towards the strange apparatus, her hand gentle on his shoulder. It is strange, the thing in front of him. Not a chair, nor a bed. It is all angles and lines and he is somehow meant to sit down on the thing.

“Made entirely of vibranium, fitted for your size and comfort,” she says softly. Bucky doesn’t care about comfort. That is a luxury not suited for his lifestyle, a choice he was never given. Still, he says nothing, allowing Shuri and another tech to get him seated, to get him used to it. He is tilted back slightly, even as his legs remain bent. His arm rests against vibranium metal, cool to the touch. His head lies cradled against a curved shaped dome, lights blinking throughout the metal. 

He slows his breathing even as his heart batters erratically against his ribcage. And Shuri notices all of this through the monitor by her side. In fact, it looks like she is seeing every reading his body provides, including what looks like brain waves. He is slightly fascinated by all he sees, and in awe of the technology he is privy to.

“We will get started in a moment, Bucky, but I want you to try to relax first. Your blood pressure is through the roof.”

“Where are the restraints,” he grinds out, looking around him. Shuri purses her lips, though her displeasure is not directed at him. “No restraints, Bucky. That will not be necessary.”

Bucky almost laughs. He’s never known a life without restraints, both physical and mental. It was the only way to guarantee his compliance. The things he could do if he had no barriers… He looks up at Shuri, eyes cold and resolute.

“You should restrain me.”

Shuri sighs, sparing a glance at the other tech. “You will just have to trust me, Bucky.”

***

There is no pain. At least not the sort Bucky is used to. He keeps his eyes shut, even as his ears pick up the beeps and hum of the strange technology around him. Shuri is a calm presence beside him, always monitoring him, always asking if he is doing okay. If anything, the absence of pain makes Bucky on edge, like he expects a nasty surprise around the corner. 

It is over with in under an hour and when he feels a warm hand on his chest he opens his eyes. “It is finished, for today.” Bucky frowns up at her. “Again?” he asks and hates the sound of his own voice. She nods in sympathy. “Until I can be sure that your brain is no longer wired to respond to the trigger words. Every day if we must. I am sorry. But it is a fantastic start.”

He purses his lips and defers to her expertise. It truly wasn’t awful, but his mind just can’t let go of all the other times he was strapped into similar chairs, surrounded by lab coats and snarling words. This is not them, he has to remind himself. He is safe here.

***

He eats and eats. For some reason he is starved and he shovels more of what he thinks is stew into his mouth before Shuri walks into his room. She brings him another tray and sets it next to his almost empty one. 

“I don’t know why I’m so hungry,” he states. “I don’t even remember eating before. Or they didn’t feed me much,” he shrugs, looking over at the new tray. Shuri watches him, a warm smile on her face. “I think your body is getting used to being out of cryo and catching up with your natural metabolism.” Bucky watches her as she pauses, a contemplative expression settling on her face. Finally, she makes a decision of sorts, and sits down next to Bucky.

“I am not sure if you ever thought about it, or guessed at least, but the serum in your blood, it is not only highly powerful but the regenerative properties is something I have never seen before.” Bucky waits for her to finish, not quite sure where she is going with this. She sighs slightly before continuing, almost as if the words will distress him.

“This means your ageing process has been affected as well. I... can’t even estimate what your life expectancy will be. It is simply impossible to tell at this point. In theory, you could be celebrating your 100th birthday without a gray hair on your head.”

Bucky blinks. He’s honestly never thought about it before. Not that he was allowed that luxury, anyway. But even after, when he was briefly living in Bucharest, it just wasn’t anything he really contemplated. In theory it makes sense. He’s survived this long. 

“It is what it is, I guess,” he musters. “It just means I have a bit more time to try to atone for, well, everything.” He looks down at his food and Shuri places her soft palm against his shoulder.

“I may not have known you all that long, Bucky, but I know a good person when I see one. And according to Steve, you have nothing to atone for. I know it does not erase the horrors from your past life, but I will ensure that you have a say in the future.” She smiles at him, both sad and promising. 

He doesn’t know what to say. Like Steve, Shuri truly doesn’t have the slightest idea of what he was capable of, what he did for decades, forced or otherwise. But he is grateful for her loyalty anyway. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, while you are here? You've hardly left this room, save for the lab.” He shrugs. The truth of it is he’s not overly thrilled to be around all this modern technology. It makes him slightly nervous and anxious, a bit of a reminder of other times, and other sterile rooms. 

“Will I be staying here, after the treatments are finished?” Truthfully, he hasn’t thought about an after. He prefers to live in the moment. Maybe he won’t even be welcome to stay after? Perhaps all this is a charity case, and then he has to move on…

“Where would you prefer to stay, Bucky? We have guest rooms next to the family suites. I know this isn’t the most inviting of spaces. I should have realized…”

“No. No, this is completely fine. I think I just need a change of scenery,” he jokes, not wanting to offend Shuri. She looks away briefly, then a glint of mischief sparks in her eye when she meets his. “I think I have the perfect place for you.”

***

Steve is standing over six corpses, his breath ragged with strain, when he feels the vibrating in his pocket. His whole body goes still, even as it fights exhaustion. He tears the bloodstained gloves off him and frantically lifts the vibrating device from his pocket. It was given to him by T’Challa, just before he left Wakanda almost six months ago. This device is the only link between him and Bucky at the moment and this is the first time it’s gone off. 

He steps over a body and presses the talk button. “This is Steve.”

“Captain Rogers, I do hope I am not catching you at an inconvenient moment.” 

Steve swallows, looks around at the carnage around him and gets his breathing under control. “King T’Challa, not at all. Has something happened? Is Bucky…”

“Your friend is fine. He is in fact doing quite well. He has been out of cryo for a month now and has responded to my sister’s treatments as expected.”

Steve places a hand against the wall, his eyes screwed shut. “That’s...that’s so great to hear. You can’t even know the relief I feel. That he’s responding and doing so good.” He huffs out a sigh. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“No thanks are necessary. Your friend is still a work in progress and if it were up to my sister, he’d never leave her clutches. But we feel the mental instability and controlling tendencies are at an end.”

Steve’s gut clenches with relief. His legs can barely support him. “Can I see him?” he manages, hoping it doesn’t come off as desperate.

“Of course you may, Captain. You have the coordinates. Please feel free to visit anytime.”

Steve thanks him again, hanging up, his body exhausted and weary. He looks around at the dead Hydra agents sprinkled on the floor and glares in defiance at their cooling corpses. 

“We won, you assholes.”

****

Bucky wakes to the soft sound of laughter and the gentle chirping of birds. He opens his eyes to see the thatched roof that belongs to his new home. He leans up on his one good arm and blinks the sleep from his eyes. He looks around at the sparse environment, so primitive, and yet it is exactly what Bucky was looking for. A new start.

He shuffles out of bed and lifts a hand to move the heavy fabric that is his door and catches a glimpse of the village children running around. For some strange reason they congregate around Bucky whenever he is around, and taken to calling him the White Wolf. He still isn’t sure why. He spots Shuri walking up the path to his hut, smiling at the children playing.

“Good morning, Bucky, I do hope the children weren’t bothering you again.”

“Naw. It’s fine, I’m not used to such attention. It’s very curious.”

She giggles slightly. “They have never seen someone like you. We do not have many outsiders in Wakanda, and certainly not in the village. And certainly not one who choose to live amongst them.”

Bucky looks around at all the curious eyes. “Is that okay? I mean, is it fine that I’m staying here?” He really doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

“Of course it’s fine. T’Challa himself approved it and we are very happy to accommodate you here.” Bucky looks down, suddenly uncomfortable. “It won’t be for long. I mean, I know I can’t stay here forever.”

Shuri looks up at Bucky, taking in his colorful garb, worn like a true Wakandan. “You may stay as long as you like, Bucky. You are most welcome, and you deserve to have some peace after everything you have gone through.” He nods slowly, solemnly. “I do like it here. It’s very peaceful.”

Shuri smiles up at him, her eyes aglow with happiness. She licks her lips, a sly smile curving on her face. “I have a surprise for you.” He quirks his brow in question. She smirks but gives nothing away, promising to show him later, if he returns to the lab with her. 

***

Steve is terrible at lying, so he doesn’t even bother with it as he asks for the Quinjet. Natasha quirks a brow and Sam stares at him in that way that most would if they knew you were going to do something stupid. Sam crosses his arms, purses his lips. “Where you going?”

“Come on, Sam, Nat interjects. “There’s only one thing that could pull Steve away from killing more Hydra agents and that something is in Wakanda.” Steve doesn’t deny anything. There’s no point and they know it. They also know they don’t really have a choice.

Sam sighs. “So it’s happened? He’s out of cryo and all fixed?” Steve gives him a look. “Bucky doesn't need fixing, Sam. He’s not a machine.” Sam does look contrite, so Steve eases up on him. “I have to go see him.” He doesn’t add anything more because they already know. They know everything.

Natasha doesn’t linger on the topic. “We can manage without the jet for a while, right, Sam? I could use a vacation anyway.” Sam just rolls his eyes, and Steve is suddenly so damn grateful for his friends. 

***

The arm is 100% vibranium, light as a feather and sleek and attractive. Or as attractive as a bionic arm can be. Bucky stares at it for a long while after Shuri giddily presents it to him. It’s steel black with golden inlays and even before trying it on Bucky knows it will move for him with the precision of a flesh and blood arm. His heart is beating rapidly the longer he stares at it, and he’s not sure if it’s out of excitement, or a deep reaching fear.

Shuri must know something is off, because her expression softens and she reassures him. “You do not have to put it on. You do not have to ever wear it if you don’t want it. I know we haven’t talked about it much, but I wanted to surprise you, just in case you ever did want it. You will not offend me by not taking it,” she finishes with a reassuring smile.

Bucky reaches out to lay fingers on the arm, resting like a showpiece at a museum. The plates of the arm are nearly invisible and he traces a finger across them, finding almost no resistance. “It’s beautiful,” he finally says, and means it. 

“I know I should have consulted with you first….”

“No, it’s- it’s really perfect, Shuri. I’m just surprised you even made this happen, that’s all.” She shrugs, immodest, and catches his eye. “It was most challenging and that is why I had to try. Even my brother didn’t know I was working on it. Just my team. I really am proud of my work and I would be honored if you would accept it.”

“Of course I accept, Shuri,” and he surprises even himself by pulling her in for a hug. It feels...strange to be so close to another human being without snuffing their life out. Different. He lets her go and he swears her eyes are glistening. She hastily looks away. “It is not quite finished. The final modifications need to happen after you properly try it on. It needs to be calibrated and set right.” Bucky doesn’t know what any of that means, but he’s game to find out.

***

Bucky is inexplicably nervous. He hardly eats his breakfast, is barely able to work on his daily exercises, and fidgets when Shuri fixes his hair into some semblance of presentable. She obviously notices, but says nothing until she wraps the fabric cloth around his chest. “There. The king himself could not have done better,” she preens. “There isn’t a woman or man here that would not find you delectable.” She is clearly teasing, but he blushes anyway.

“Shuri, there’s no need for all this fussing. It’s only Steve. He knows what I look like,” he says in exasperation. Shuri fixes a fold on his chest, her deft fingers working the fabric like a pro. “He has not seen you like _this_ , Bucky. Besides, my brother never let me dress him when we were younger. And you never complain.” She smiles up at him, satisfied with her work.

“I can hardly complain after everything you’ve done, can I?”

“No. You can’t.” She grins at him cheekily and their eyes both suddenly turn to the large window, where they can see a jet touching down. Bucky’s heart speeds up a bit, his nerves going into overdrive. He is too good at hiding it, however, and Shuri doesn’t remark on it. “Looks like your friend is here. Shall we go welcome him?”

He smiles at her and is sure it comes off lopsided. “It’s just Steve,” he repeats again. She merely rolls her eyes and takes one last look over Bucky. “Are you sure you do not want to wear the arm?” He does actually, is itching to finally put it on, but for some reason he doesn’t want Steve to see him with it just yet. And even though Shuri promised him it was complete, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the procedure to attach it. 

“Maybe soon,” he says, and she doesn’t press him.

***

Steve does a fine job of not rushing to Bucky’s side the moment he sees him. He’s already stepped off the jet, bag in hand, said his hellos to a few familiar faces, when he notices him. Even in the distance he is unmistakable. Not just for his light skin, but his height, his gait, hell his hair. Steve is grinning like a lunatic in no time and he fights with himself not to jog over. 

Bucky is wearing what looks like traditional Wakandan garb, and it’s a far cry from his monotone kevlar attire. His hair looks a bit longer, his beard more scruffier, but his eyes are a storm of emotions. Steve has known Bucky his whole life and he can see every nuance flickering behind those blue eyes. Before he can decipher anything, he is facing his old friend and it’s like the past six months-hell- the past seventy years means nothing at all.

“Buck…” He grabs onto him, and doesn’t let go. Bucky feels stiff in his arms, clearly surprised by the reaction, but after a moment Steve feels a hand tighten around his back and he wants to fucking die. All the fighting, and death and betrayals, and right now in the world it’s only him and Bucky. Like it’s always been. Like it’s supposed to be.

“Hey, Steve,” he hears the whisper in his ear, and he knows people are watching but he steps back and grabs Bucky by his shoulders and just stares. 

“Jesus, Bucky, look at you.” He grins, tries to play off his imminent anxiety, squeezes his shoulder. “I can’t believe this is the same guy I dropped off all those months ago,” he jokes, and Bucky looks down, hiding his blush. 

“Welcome back, Captain Rogers,” Shuri exclaims with a smile. ‘We hope your journey was pleasant.” Steve forces himself to step away from Bucky, putting on his most charming smile.

“Thank you, Shuri, it was. And please call me Steve. I hope this guy wasn’t too much trouble for you,” he jokes with a side glance at his friend. Shuri smiles, glancing over at Bucky. “Would you believe he has been charming and the epitome of politeness this whole time?”

Steve almost continues the banter, but standing so close to Bucky, his heart is just not into it. “Actually, I can believe that. Back when we were younger this guy could charm the pants off of even our landlord. Everyone who met him fell for it. Puppy dog eyes,” he winks at Bucky, who is clearly fighting not to run away.

“If I remember correctly, Stevie, it was your cheeks everyone wanted to pinch and hair to fluff like a good little lad.”

Steve frowns, “Hey now, it wasn’t always like tha....wait. You...remember that?” His chest caves in as he stares at Bucky, hope glowing in his heart. Bucky contemplates that a moment, before allowing a shrug. “It comes and goes,” he supplies, and Shuri steps in to save the day.

“Come on, Bucky, let’s show Steve his room and then lunch, I think?” Bucky nods, and soon Steve is following them inside, his palms sweaty and his heart lurching.

***

They meet up with T’Challa, who welcomes Steve heartily to his home, but regrets not being able to dine with them because of prior diplomatic responsibilities. Steve waves off the apology, because honestly, he’s here for one reason and one reason only. Shuri clearly catches on at once, as she leads them to a private dining area with a setup for two. 

“Lunch will be served momentarily.” She smiles at them both and gives them the room. It is suddenly, oppressively quiet. They are many stories up and Bucky glances out the window at the busyness below them. Steve watches his profile in silence.

“I’m glad you came,” Bucky whispers and Steve nearly leaps out of his chair. He wants to grab hold of him again, the need so intense he’s not sure how he keeps himself anchored to his chair. Just needs to feel he’s real. That he’s actually here with him.

“Of course I came, Buck. As soon as I heard you were better. I would have come sooner, but it would have been slightly creepy if I just stood there watching you sleep through the glass.”

Bucky smiles but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. His eyes flicker to Steve, and they look him over, lingering on the beard, on the faint bruising. He knows before Bucky even says it.

“You look like crap, Steve.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, leans back in his chair. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Especially from Nat.” Bucky doesn’t pry, just lets a crease form between his brows. Almost like he’s not sure if it’s ok to ask anything further. Like he has no right to. Steve swallows.

“I missed you, Buck.” He lets that linger. It’s basically the understatement of the century. Bucky stares at him, his eyes dark and sorrowful. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Steve.” It’s not quite the same, but Steve will take what he can get. The food arrives a moment later.

They eat in companionable silence, Steve asking a question every now and then about Bucky’s stay. He is thrilled he has done so well here, and Bucky even talks about the treatments Shuri has implemented. 

“She’s helped a great deal,” Bucky finishes and Steve can’t help but smile. “I’m glad, Bucky. I really am.” Steve wants to ask more, but he doesn’t pry, not yet anyway. He’s just excited to be here with Bucky. 

“I like this look,” Steve states during dessert, finger pointing at Bucky’s clothing. “It’s very...nomad.” Bucky shrugs, glancing down. “Just trying to blend in. I’ve even almost mastered putting all this on one handed,” he grins, and it’s infectious because Steve smiles back at him. 

“So what have you been up to these past few months?” Bucky asks him a bit later as they slowly down some fairly serious Wakandan liquor. Steve thinks about how to answer the question, but doesn’t want to deceive Bucky. He’s had enough of that to last several lifetimes.

“Hunting Hydra.”

Bucky stills, glass to his mouth. He downs the amber liquor in one swallow and sets the glass on the table. His eyes are dark as steel as he stares at Steve.

“Why?”

Steve finishes his own glass, fingering the intricate inlays in the glass. “You know why.”

Bucky is still for a long moment. Then he sighs loudly, unable to contain his frustration. “You don’t have to do this, Steve. I never asked you to do this.”

“You don’t have to ask anything, Buck. After I found out what they did… I found even more afterwards and I just couldn't sit on this. I had the means at my disposal and I’m not sorry I did it. Me, Sam and Nat. We’ve sort of gone rogue and well, it’s paid off for now. Hydra is finally going down, and I’m not sorry.”

Bucky eyes him for a long time, then a cool, eerie smile slowly creeps to his face. “Do you really think Hydra is the end of it? That Shield is?” His voice is low and hypnotic, and Steve’s pulse races at the intensity of it all. “You haven’t even scratched the surface. You can’t possibly even fathom….” 

He turns away suddenly, like the mere act of speaking about it is too much. Steve wants to reach out, but he is afraid to move. “I’m going to dismantle their entire existence, continent by continent if I have to. I worked for Shield, too.” Bucky looks at him, inscrutable. Then he blinks as if coming to a decision.

“Fine. If that is how you want to look at it...Just don’t say you’re doing this for or because of me. I don’t need any more deaths on my conscience.”

“Bucky…” 

“Come on,” Bucky stands. “I wanna show you where I live.”

Steve can barely move right now, guilt and anxiety rooting him to his chair, but for Bucky he makes himself get up. He follows him like a puppy, like the way it always was. Because Steve still can’t help himself.

***

It is nearly evening as they leave the bright lights and noises of T’Challa’s compound and make their way slowly down a wide road that soon turns to just a dirt road. Steve is intrigued as he walks side by side with Bucky, who is quiet, his eyes constantly on the landscape in front of him. 

The air is sticky with humidity and even as the sun slowly sets it feels like mid-day and Steve is already sweltering in his clothing. The path they’re on soon opens up to a larger field and in the distance Steve can see many dome-shaped buildings spaced evenly apart. Matching thatched roofs quaintly line the huts and Steve is amazed that this is still a part of Wakanda.

He sees villagers milling about, grabbing water, petting goats and other livestock. Children running around. It’s all very peaceful and idyllic. 

“This one’s me,” Bucky points at a hut a few feet away. It’s set a bit farther back than some of the others, but looks nearly identical. 

“You live here?” Steve asks, and Bucky just shrugs, lifting the thick curtain out of the way so Steve can come inside. It’s fairly dark but in a moment Bucky lights some electric lanterns and it’s all quite cozy. There is a narrow bed with some blankets and a small nightstand and another small chest of drawers. On top of that is a carafe with water and a few packaged snack items. 

There is nothing of Bucky’s whatsoever in this place. On the other hand, it’s not like Bucky arrived with any luggage. 

“I know it’s not much, but I just didn’t care for all the noise of the city. This...suits me better.”

Steve swallows slowly. Once upon a time, Bucky could dance the night away as music blared and the chaotic sounds of Brooklyn made itself known. Bucky loved the city more than anything, had told him he never wanted to leave. Made fun of dull, old country folk who sat on their porches and smoked themselves into a boring grave. 

The man before him looks like his Bucky, but he has to remind himself, over and over again, that that man died the day he fell from that train. The day Steve couldn’t save his best friend. The day that started everything. He makes a show of looking around.

“It feels very tranquil here.” 

Bucky sits down on the bed. “That’s the idea.” He uses his good arm to unclasp and unwind the fabric around his shoulders. “It’s always too warm here,” he frowns. “Not used to it, I guess.”

Bucky wears a simple white tank top, and Steve’s heart clenches as he once again remembers a much different time, to sitting outside fire escapes in the sweltering heat, Steve with a large baseball cap over his head, Bucky in a white tank, hair much shorter, chain smoking as he overlooked the chaos five stories beneath them. 

Bucky must have noticed the look on Steve’s face because his soft voice broke through the haze in Steve’s head. “You ok?”

Steve inhales sharply, eyes on Bucky’s. Tries to keep it together. “Yea, Buck. It’s just..you look like you’re doing real well here. I’m thrilled for that.” Bucky regards him a moment, face unreadable and Steve feels more vulnerable than he’s ever felt. The close quarters, his best friend who is still alive, even though Steve still wakes up from the same nightmare of him reaching, reaching, and Bucky’s voice screaming into the darkness. It’s almost too much. 

“I make you uncomfortable.”

Steve stills, eyes wide with confusion. “What? No, of course not, Bucky. Why would you even think that?” Again Bucky’s face is a mask and Steve absolutely hates that because Bucky was always the emotional one. Cried more after Steve’s mom died than her own son did. Threatened murder if anyone even looked at Steve cock-eyed, and now… Now he looks at Steve as a curiosity and he’s ready to bolt out of there but Bucky suddenly stands and grabs his arm and it’s only then that he realizes that his whole body is shaking.

“You’re good,” Bucky says simply, calmly, his arm firm and reassuring. “Come on.” He guides Steve down and settles him on the bed. He steps back, leaning against the dresser, waiting.

“Sorry,” Steve manages after a while. The air is thick and heavy and he feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, like before the serum, before everything got messed up.

“You forget I can read people,” Bucky replies, not unkindly. “I try not to read too much into things, but it’s not something I can control sometimes. Decades of training and all….” Steve only nods, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“Do you want me to go?” Bucky asks and that gets Steve’s heart racing. “No! Jesus, Bucky, no I don’t want you to go. I’m ok, really. And don’t ever think you make me uncomfortable. If anything, I’m the one being a fucking mess over here.”

“Did you just swear?”

Steve looks up at an incredulous-looking Bucky. “I do that, on occasion,” and he can’t help the smile from forming, because Bucky is still watching him, like he’s trying desperately to figure him out. 

“I may not remember much, but I would bet my life that your mom would box your ears if she ever heard that word come out of your mouth.”

Steve laughs, because it’s absolutely true. And Bucky remembers that. “She would glare daggers at you every time you cursed, Buck. Threaten to tell your ma. But she never did. She adored you.” Bucky has a faraway look, a smile slowly spreading on his face. “She did, didn’t she.” Steve smiles. “Yea, Buck, everyone did.”

***

“You remember nothing from the war?”

They lie side by side on Bucky’s narrow bed, not a small feat for men of their stature. Still, they’ve had it worse. The sky is dark outside and the bugs are the only things making noise now. 

“A few vague details. It’s all a blur. I remember I was on sniper duty a lot.”

“You were the best shot. Everyone knew it. Saved my ass a few times.” A breath of laughter comes from Bucky next to him. 

“I’m glad, in a way. Not to remember. From what I read it wasn’t pretty. A lot of lives lost. And for what?”

“People love their wars. It was true back then and it’s even more true now,” Steve says sadly. “I see it all the time.”

“It must have been so strange for you. To wake up in this world. After seventy years. Finding out everything you’ve known is gone.”

Steve looks up at the thatched ceiling, the lantern making it glow eerily. “It still feels that way. Strange. I feel...displaced. Sometimes I think I don’t belong here, and I should have fucking died in that ocean.”

“Steve…”

“I’m sorry. Here I am having a private pity party when I know it’s nothing compared to what happened to you.” They were quiet a long while, shoulders touching, hearts beating.

“Sometimes they woke me in the same year. But that was rare. Usually it was three years later, or eight years. Sometimes I didn’t know what year it was. What decade. Nothing was relevant except for the mission. My name had long been wiped by that point.”

Steve doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t dare to.

“I remember the training. So much training. Snarling dogs, massive hounds that threatened to tear your head off if you didn’t comply. One on one fighting, weapons training, psychological tests, deprivation tanks, more injections. Hallucinations, beatings. Eventually they took the pain away. Must have been the serum, or the brainwashing. I don’t know, but when I got stabbed in the stomach I hardly felt it. When I got shot through my shin bone, I didn’t even break my stride. Half the time I wasn’t even aware I was injured until I reported back and they patched me up.

“I didn’t even know I could speak a language until I opened my mouth. French, German, Ukrainian. I’m not even sure how they managed it. I’d be impressed if it wasn’t so fucked up.” His voice is bitter and Steve is a mess by his side.

“Bucky…”

“I told your friend Tony I remember them. All the people I’ve killed. I wasn’t lying. Out of all the things I wish I could forget, wish the times I wasted away in cryo would make me forget. But it never did. It’s my burden to bear and I’ve made peace with that. There’s nothing I can ever do to atone for that and quite honestly I’m not sure how you can even look me in the eye after everything I’ve done, but I don’t deserve to have your friendship. I don’t even know how I’m still alive. You should have let Tony kill me.”

Steve’s ears are ringing and his vision is blurry but he makes himself get up, towering over Bucky. “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you dare do this to yourself, not after everything we’ve both been through. I lost my whole life frozen in that water. Everyone I knew and loved was dead or dying. Do you know what it felt like when I found out you were alive? It was the first time I felt alive in over seventy years.

“All this time I was living my life, day to day, but it was all a front. Just going through the motions. Day in, day out. I put on that Captain America suit and it was a nice little escape for a while, but even wearing it brought back too many emotions I didn’t want to deal with. I had friends but not really. They looked at me like a museum artifact. A great asset to their team, but that’s about it. Nice guys, all, really. But I would go home to an empty apartment and stay awake all night and then I did it all over again the next day. 

“I was good at faking it, always have been. But it took one look at the guy I thought had died decades ago to shatter all that. After that I vowed I would do everything in my power to get that guy back, to protect him if need be, to help him. And nothing’s changed about it. Nothing. You have no idea how stubborn I can be. And you don’t get to die on my watch. Not again.”

Bucky sits back, leaning against the headboard. “Steve. I don’t want you wasting away your life for me,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m really grateful, for everything. For jarring me back into this world. Who knows what could have happened. I almost killed you…”

“But you didn’t. Because I knew you were still in there. There’s nothing you can say that would convince me otherwise. When you disappeared again, after dragging me from the Potomac, I nearly lost it again. To find you only to lose you again. I wanted to go after you right away, but Sam helped me see reason. He was on board with anything afterwards, though. We tried for two years to locate you but I was starting to lose hope. My only consolation was I was sure you weren't dead. Not you. Not again.”

“I needed time to think, to deal with things,” Bucky says apologetically.

“I know, and I’m glad you were ok. Like I said, if I didn’t have Sam I would have gone crazy tearing the world apart.”

“He sounds like a good friend.”

“He is. He’s got a good heart. Loyal. I’d trust him with my life.” Steve looks at Bucky, eyes fierce. “But he’s not you. And if you disappeared like that again…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “But you need to promise me to stop going after Hydra. If I found out you got killed cause of me…”

“Buck, stop. It’s not only for you. They have to be stopped and we have the intel and means to get it done. And not for nothing, but if the greatest assassin on earth couldn’t kill me, I’m pretty sure they don’t stand a chance.” He smiles down at Bucky, who shakes his head in disbelief.

“You’re impossible, Rogers.” 

“Well, you do know me better than anyone alive.” A fond glint appears in Bucky’s eyes and Steve’s heart grows at the sight. 

“Come on, I’d better get you back to the Citadel so you can get some rest.” He goes to stand but Steve ends up sitting back down on the bed.

“Actually, it’s kinda nice out here. Ok if I stick around?” Steve knows there’s barely enough room for Bucky, but his friend doesn't question the request. He merely scoots over and wordlessly invites Steve to stay.

***

Bucky sleeps like he’s never slept in his life. Out like a light and doesn’t twitch until the birds start chirping outside. He can tell it’s not quite dawn without opening his eyes, his senses going into overdrive. He is also quite aware of the breath on his neck, the warm body by his side. He is suddenly grateful for the lack of one arm, as half his body is practically slipping off the bed.

He finds himself smiling and he dares to open his eyes, turning his head slightly. Steve sleeps with his lips half parted, pale lashes caressing his cheek. Bucky is so close he can count the light freckles on Steve’s nose. He takes his time in committing this to memory. Because fuck it all if he can’t ever remember this moment.

Steve is on his side, clothing rumpled and plastered against his dewy skin. Bucky is also quite warm and considers moving off the bed just to escape the inferno by his side. But for a long while he is content to just lie there, tracing Steve’s lines with his eyes. 

Slowly, the pale light filters its way inside, creeping across the floor, over the bed. Steve stirs and Bucky expertly and quietly maneuvers himself off the bed. He rips off his damp tank top, having trouble with the one arm as it’s completely plastered to him. He drops it to the floor and goes to grab a glass of water from the dresser.

“What time is it,” says a sleepy Steve. Bucky turns around as Steve is rubbing at his face, his hair a disaster. “Still early. But not too early for the villagers. They will start their work soon. Water?”

Steve finally gazes up at him to answer, but there is the slightest bit of hesitation in answering and Bucky doesn’t miss the eyes roaming, an unexpected but intriguing moment. “Uh yeah, that’d be great.”

Bucky turns around and pours Steve a glass, his heart suddenly thumping impressively in his chest. His cheeks feel warm and he is glad there isn’t much light in the hut. He hands the cup to Steve, who is studiously avoiding looking at him. Bucky mentally sighs and pulls a drawer in his dresser, plucks out a loose tee. He is getting quite good at doing this one handed but Steve still immediately rushes to assist him.

It’s both vulnerable and slightly intoxicating, and Bucky can just feel the graze of Steve’s fingertips gliding across his lower back as he assists with the shirt. Bucky stares straight at Steve, who quickly finds his glass of water more fascinating.

It’s strange how much one can remember, and how certain things are still a complete blur. Bucky muses silently as he sips on his own water, watches as Steve laces his boots back on. He burns a hole in Steve’s back but the other man doesn’t even register it. Bucky isn’t an idiot, of course. He wasn’t lying about being able to read people. The best spies have to. And right now he is reading a multitude of things about Steve. 

He doesn’t say a word about it, though. Steve is his guest and clearly at odds with something at the moment. He doesn’t dare ruin what is already a precarious relationship. But Bucky is nothing if not patient. 

He doesn’t bother putting anything else on; it’s much too warm already. He grabs a frayed leather band from the top of the dresser, offering it to Steve. “Do you mind? Shuri usually does it for me. Bit tricky with one hand. Steve stares at the band like it’s a gun pointed at his face and Bucky arches a brow at the long pause. But then Steve gets his act together, springing up off the bed and grabbing the band from Bucky’s hand.

Bucky turns around, eyes on the wall, but as soon as he feels Steve’s fingers threading through his scalp they involuntarily close shut and stay that way until Steve is done tying his hair up. 

“Hope that's alright. Don’t get much practice you know.” Steve’s voice is slightly hoarse and strained even as he tries to joke. Bucky doesn’t even bother to reach back and check. Just plasters on his most genial expression and turns around. “Feels great, thanks.” 

They soon leave Bucky’s hut, slowly making their trek back to the Citadel for some breakfast. The sun is rising, turning the sky all sorts of brilliant colors. Bucky is grateful to witness it.

“Why don’t you just cut it,” Steve asks, breaking Bucky from his musings. It takes him a moment to register the question.

“Maybe I will one day. Shuri will kill me, though.” Steve breaks his stride and Bucky does not fail to notice.

“Shuri’s really taken to you, huh?”

Bucky smiles, avoiding Steve’s side glances. “She’s pretty amazing. I mean, she’s given me a second chance at things. She’s fiercely loyal, and clever. Kicks my butt at board games,” he grins.

“She’s uh, seventeen, isn’t she?”

This time Bucky stops and Steve nearly trips over himself. He looks back at Bucky, a questioning look in his eyes. Bucky’s grin turns into a full on smirk, but he takes pity on Steve when he realizes Steve looks a bit lost.

“Steve, it’s not like that. She’s a friend, that’s all. Aside from you she’s the only one to get close to me. She knows what I’ve done and like you she’s stubborn as hell.” Steve blinks, attempts and fails to look unbothered by any of this.

“Oh, I know. I wasn’t implying anything. Just making small talk.”

Bucky smirks again, swatting at Steve’s arm as they start back up the path. “Mmhmm…Plus, even if she were older, T’Challa would murder me in my sleep if anything ever happened between us.” Steve smirks, but it looks strained, his eyes faraway.

They walk in mostly silence the rest of the way. When they get to the dining hall they converse with some of the royal family members and join them for an animated meal. Bucky glances at Steve every now and then, his mind churning.

***

Steve gets coerced into a more thorough tour by the Queen Mother and Bucky takes the opportunity to visit Shuri in her lab. She is eating her breakfast over a workstation and Bucky hates to bother her, but suddenly his request cannot wait.

“And where did your friend sleep last night,” she says to him by way of greeting. “I know for a fact those beds barely fit even one.” She looks up at him, but he doesn’t squirm under her scrutiny.

“Ah, then you’ve obviously never slept in a war trench or a tent with four other people. Sleeping quarters get very cozy very fast.” Her smile lingers, always mischievous.

“What can I do for you, Bucky? I promised my brother some tech he’s been asking for, for months, but of course, for you I will gladly postpone it,” she grins, and Bucky shakes his head, rolling his eyes. He came here with a purpose but is all of a sudden inexplicably nervous. He licks his lips.

“How long will it take to attach the new arm?”

Shuri’s grin is frozen on her face, her eyes glinting with disbelief. When she sees he’s perfectly serious she gets up from her chair, walks closer. She eyes him carefully, and though her tone is serious, her whole body is brimming with energy.

“It should take no more than an hour. The lasers are already calibrated for you.” He nods. “Can we do this now?”

She doesn’t ask him questions. “Of course. It is your arm after all.” At his pensive expression, she lays a hand on his shoulder. “You should feel no discomfort during the procedure.”

Even now, after all this time he finds himself sweating and nauseous as he lays down on the operating table. Perhaps it’s ingrained in him forever. Just another piece of him they’ve taken. He clenches his jaw and turns to look at Shuri.

“I’m ready, let’s do this.”

***

Steve is wondering where Bucky went. It’s been almost three hours since he was whisked away on a tour of the palace and accompanying grounds, and while truly fascinating and beautiful, he’s about ready to call it quits. He is starting to get ansty without Bucky by his side and the thought is both enlightening and scary. If he’s this far gone without Bucky for a couple of hours, how is going to feel when he has to leave this place? The thought is paralyzing and unpleasant.

The Queen Mother graciously leaves him in one of the smaller, but no less beautiful gardens. There are sounds all around him, from the trees softly swaying, to the birds merrily chirping and diving. He’s leaning on a railing, taking in the scenery when he hears the soft steps behind him. Thinking it’s someone grabbing him for lunch, he turns, and catches his breath.

Bucky approaches Steve almost cautiously, his face betraying nothing, but in his stance Steve can detect a bit of uncertainty. Steve also doesn’t fail to notice the new tech he’s sporting. His eyes roam over the new, gleaming arm almost hungrily and a smile creeps to his face.

“Wow. So this is where you’ve been all this time?”

Bucky shrugs, his right hand automatically reaches for the metal arm, almost like he’s making sure it’s actually there. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Steve gets closer, his eyes flickering to Bucky’s in question. “Go ahead,” Bucky says. Steve carefully reaches out, his fingers finding the smooth metal. He makes out all the intricate plates, the way the light reacts to them, the way Bucky’s subtle movements make them shift and transform. It even feels different from his last arm. This feels almost organic, like Bucky was born with it. It’s insane and he realizes he’s been caressing the arm for a while now.

Steve pulls back, throwing an apologetic glance at Bucky, though the other man doesn’t seem to notice or mind. “Pretty cool, huh?” Bucky smiles and Steve can’t help but mimic his expression.

“Hell yes. Does it feel…”

“Like an arm?” Bucky supplies. Steve just nods. “It’s kind of crazy how much it feels like a real arm. It’s not even attached to my nerves since they’re too damaged to ever repair. But whatever Shuri did, it’s like I’ve gained something back. It’s not as flexible as the real thing obviously, but it’s just as strong as my last one, if not more so.”

“Buck...I’m thrilled for you,” Steve says, and means it. Just to see the look on Bucky’s face makes everything worth it. Bucky grins back at him, boyish and care-free. “Come on, let’s get some lunch, I’m starving.

***

After lunch, Bucky shows off his new arm to some of the children, and T’Challa makes a surprising visit. Steve is glad because he’s been wanting to talk to him about Bucky’s time here. They watch the children with Bucky as some of the smaller ones try to do pull ups on the arm. Steve smiles.

“He’s doing well. I really can’t thank you enough, T’Challa.”

“Think nothing of it. I am glad to help out a friend.” He pauses, glancing at the scene once more. “I’m not sure if Shuri mentioned it or not, but she did the best she could for your friend.”

Steve looks at T’Challa, knowing there is more to come. “I can see that she has. It’s amazing, the change in him.”

“Yes. It took a while, but she managed to remove the effects of the trigger words from his sub-conscience. Unfortunately, she was unable to find a way to remove his more...unpleasant memories. Shuri says he suffers from nightmares. It seems to be getting easier, but it is just too complex to tackle.”

Steve looks down at the floor. “You know, it’s funny… I have nightmares too, sometimes. I wake up still feeling as if I’m about to crash into the ocean. I don’t know if I’ll ever be over it. Bucky, he’s had it way worse than me. He had to do things that would make anyone physically ill just thinking about it. And he’s accepted that. He has to live with that. And to be honest, I don’t think he would want to be rid of those memories. I think he needs them. To move on.”

T’Challa nods in understanding. “We all have darkness in us. Some more than others. This is why we need loved ones around us, to keep us grounded. Your friend is most welcome here, and he can stay as long as he wishes. But I wonder what happens after you leave.”

Steve’s brows furrow in question. “He seems to do well with the others here. Even the children. He’s always been great at making friends. It’s always come easy for him.” He suddenly doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince. He shuffles his feet. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave him again. But I can’t stay here forever, and it’s not exactly safe for Bucky to return state-side. He’s still a wanted man. Plus, I’m not sure he wants to leave just yet.”

T’Challa stares at Steve, then he clasps him on the shoulder. “In the end, we must do what is best for everyone.” He leaves Steve to his thoughts, as the laughter of children echo in the distance.

***

Bucky doesn’t ask how long Steve is here for. He doesn’t want to know and Steve isn’t in a hurry to tell him. The sun is still high in the sky, the air heavy with heat, and Bucky gets an idea. “I found a place while exploring a while back,” he explains as they set a pace through some thick brush. Steve doesn’t question their destination, content just to be around Bucky.

It’s not a long walk, but they are both drenched by the time they arrive. It’s all jungle at first, but Steve hears the familiar sound of rushing water and he is suddenly curious and enthralled. Bucky smiles knowingly, not bothering to share in the surprise until they arrive.

The path opens up, the jungle slips away and they are soon standing in front of an impressive watering hole, with a raging waterfall at its end. Steve grins at the sight. He looks at Bucky and all he asks is “Can that arm get wet?” before they are both racing towards the water’s edge.

Bucky is already removing his shirt and pants and Steve is annoyed with the laces of his boots when he hears the splash. Bucky is neck-deep in water and Steve hurries to divest himself of his clothing. He is down to his boxer briefs when he dives in, hoping it’s as deep as he thinks it is. 

The water is the perfect temperature. Not freezing like the ocean around New England is, and not balmy like the tropical waters. It’s invigorating and refreshing and he suddenly never wants to get out. Bucky is swimming laps, testing out his new arm. Steve lays on his back, staring up at the crystal blue sky. 

Bucky swims over, his long hair out of its tie and plastered to his face. His eyes are competing with the blue of the sky and Steve’s heart is lurching in his chest. He ducks under the water for a brief respite from the visual. He surfaces and Bucky immediately splashes water in his face. 

“I see how it is,” Steve grins and replicates the movement. Bucky ducks but isn’t fast enough and suddenly they are ten and eleven, jumping the puddles of a Brooklyn street where a broken fire hydrant is gushing water. It’s a hundred degrees and they are soaking wet from head to toe, without a care in the world. 

The memory comes with such perfect clarity he’s almost asking Bucky about. But he stops himself because if Bucky doesn’t remember it, he’s gonna feel like crap, but it’s enough for now, because the look on Bucky’s face is the same as it was all those decades ago. 

“Race you to the falls?” Bucky asks, but doesn’t actually give Steve a chance to respond as he dives under and starts paddling away. Steve groans but won’t take the challenge lying down. He sucks in a mouthful of air and splashes after Bucky. 

It’s actually a close race. Bucky is fast, freakishly so, but Steve loves a challenge and it’s not like he doesn’t have super serum in his blood either. His height helps a bit too, and he catches up to Bucky just as he feels the harsh drops of the falling water. 

“I obviously won,” Bucky states, ever so modest. Steve tries to catch his breath, shaking his head. “Totally a draw. Plus you cheated with the head start.” Bucky scoffs at that and flips Steve off. Steve can’t help but laugh and he leaves the subject, given Bucky’s happy mood.

He can hardly hear himself think over the rush of the water, but it also feels sort of peaceful and zen. Bucky silently agrees with the assessment and they share a satisfying grin. As they swim back to shore, Steve realizes they actually never brought any towels with them. Bucky says, “Part of the fun,” and they lazily wade to the grassy shore, tired but happy.

Bucky is wearing black boxers that are plastered to every curve of his body, dripping water as he makes his way out. He plops on the grass, leaning his head back, and shuts his eyes. Steve doesn’t want to stare, but lately what he wants has taken an odd turn. He runs a hand through his soaking hair, trying to get some of the moisture out. Heart rushing, he slowly sits down on the grass next to Bucky.

Bucky’s body is relaxed in repose, one leg lying flat while the other is bent up. Both arms are splayed on his chest as his face leans towards the sun, eyes screwed shut. “You gonna lay down and dry off or are you gonna stare at me the whole time?”

Steve startles, his body going still with shock. “What? I wasn’t staring.” And his own voice couldn’t sound more panicked. 

“Yes you were.” 

Steve doesn’t- _can’t_ \- breathe. He doesn’t know what to say but lying is completely out of the question. Not with Bucky. The man can see right through him, always has been able to. But he flounders like a fish until Bucky opens his eyes. There is no surprise or incrimination there. Just Bucky. He leans up on one arm, and has to look up as he’s still not quite eye level to Steve.

Steve can’t meet his eyes. He’s never thought of himself as a coward but he just can’t. He feels like he’s just done something irreversible, like he’s screwed everything up. He doesn’t even know what it is, but then he feels Bucky’s fingers poking at his leg to get his attention and Steve can’t help but look.

Steve doesn’t apologize but Bucky still says “It’s ok, and he eyes Steve like he’s looking for something, and Steve doesn’t know what he’s referring to but he’s so close to the other man and Bucky’s eyes are so fucking blue. 

He leans in and the kiss is not so much of a grazing of lips, but a whisper of breath across flesh and Steve freezes in shock because his mind just caught up to his body and realizes it was him that made the move. He’s about to jump up and bolt but Bucky’s metal arm comes up and around without Steve even realizing it and Bucky is pulling him in and this time their lips clash and the sound in his head is louder than the waterfall.

It’s Bucky that pulls back because Steve is still incapable of thought or reason. He feels warm breath on his face and Bucky is still so close, almost like he’s afraid Steve will bolt if he gets further away. Both of them are shaking and he notices Bucky lick his lips, as if committing the taste to memory.

“You need to tell me, Steve,” Bucky whispers, “and please don’t lie to me.”

Steve doesn’t move, just waits.

“My memory is still not great, but. I need to know. Did we...do this, before?” 

Steve’s heart shatters and he clenches his eyes shut, feeling the wellness behind his lids. He slowly shakes his head. “No,” he whispers back. “Never even crossed my mind,” he replies honestly. “And I don’t know why this time is...different. I’m sorry.”

Bucky leans back, the blues of his eyes all but gone. Steve has never had a look like that directed at him before and everything south of his stomach goes hard. 

“I’m not sorry,” Bucky states, his eyes flickering back to Steve’s lips. “But if you’re sorry…”

“I’m not,” Steve blurts, and Bucky doesn’t laugh or grin or makes fun of Steve. He merely attacks him. Steve is on his back before he even realizes it’s happened and Bucky’s mouth is on his and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands but they soon find themselves buried in Bucky’s wet hair. 

Steve moans at the contact like it’s too much and Bucky arches down into him, chest against chest. Bucky is licking a path along Steve’s jaw and Steve is grabbing at Bucky’s hip, digging in and Bucky snarls above him, the sound a mix of cat’s purr and motorcycle and Steve’s head is about to explode. Without thinking he places a hand against Bucky’s chest and the man above him freezes.

“Sorry,” Bucky gets out. “Sorry, I haven’t done this in a while.”

Steve smiles up at him, breath ragged. “It’s ok, I’ve never done this.” And he actually doesn't mean to say that because the look on Bucky’s face is both priceless and horrifying. He leans way back, but doesn’t get off Steve.

“You’re serious?” he asks, and when Steve remains silent, he releases a huff of air. “I would have thought after the serum, after Peggy…”

“There was only Peggy, but I never got more than a kiss. And then the plane crash, and not for nothing but after being frozen for seventy years and confused about this current world, romance hasn’t been exactly on my mind.”

Bucky watches Steve, chest still heaving. “So now what?” He leaves it up to Steve and touched isn’t even the right word for it. Steve is so thankful suddenly for Bucky that he knows he doesn’t even have to think about the answer. Besides Peggy, there was only ever Bucky. And maybe he never exactly pictured this for them, but they were both changed men now. There was no rewinding the clock.

Steve raises his arm and slides his fingers up Bucky’s metal arm and Steve could swear he sees Bucky shudder and his blood starts to boil. “Now, come here.”

Bucky needs no further encouragement.

***

It’s dusk by the time they make it back into town and they go to Steve’s guest room to change for dinner. Mostly also because Bucky has no shower back at his hut. 

They step inside the glass shower together, and they don’t even have the door shut before they are all over each other. Bucky is a man possessed. He grabs at every inch of Steve, licks every crevice he can reach, all the while enjoying the sounds coming out of Steve’s mouth. 

It’s beyond anything he could have imagined. To have this. To take this. Even the voices in his mind quieted down. He could drown out anything, forget about his past even for a little while- as long as he has Steve. 

He has no fucking clue what he’s doing, having never been with another man, but clearly Steve doesn’t mind or care and neither does he. All he knows is this feels good and touching Steve feels good and fuck everything else. 

The water from the shower races over his face, blinding him as he gets to his knees, and swallows Steve’s cock. The other man’s head slams back against the tiles, his tree trunk legs going weak and shaky. It’s over in no time as Steve comes in his mouth, clenching onto Bucky’s shoulders for dear life. When he stands up Steve gets a fist around Bucky’s cock and he thinks he might actually pass out from this.

They eventually wash up and get dressed for dinner.

***

Dinner is a more formal affair, with both T’Challa and the Queen Mother attending. Shuri is there too, sharing a smile for the both of them as they enter the dining hall. Her smile soon turns sly as they take a seat opposite from her. Bucky stares her down and eventually she backs down from her silent inquiry.

It’s all very pleasant and relaxing, the traditional Wakandan meal, hearty and delicious, and Bucky is truly in a happy place for once, until the Queen Mother turns to Steve.

“Captain Rogers, when do you mean to return home?”

Bucky stiffens, his eyes on his meal. He can feel the tension in Steve’s body next to him as well. Steve makes a show of wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Well, that is entirely up to Bucky, I’m afraid. Can’t quite tell if he’s getting sick of me yet,” he winks playfully at Bucky, though the other man’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Well you are most welcome to stay as long as you wish,” T’Challa says, with a firm nod from the Queen Mother. Steve smiles graciously. “Thank you, Highness. Your country is beautiful, and I’ve enjoyed my time here. Unfortunately, there are...responsibilities waiting for me at home that I can’t ignore forever.”

“Of course, Steve,” T’Challa says, and as if sensing the mood, changes the subject. Bucky is quiet throughout dinner, and not even Shuri can sway him into conversation. After the meal Bucky and Steve express their tiredness after the long day, and depart for Steve’s room.

Bucky sits on Steve’s bed as the other man slowly peels off his shirt. His shoulders are tense as is his posture and Bucky finally sighs.

“Steve, I know you have to go. I mean, all this was just temporary anyway. This visit. My time here. Eventually even I have to go.”

Steve turns to Bucky, his face forlorn. “You don’t have to go, Buck. This place is good for you. I mean, look at you, at how far you’ve come. You’re healing here.” He rakes his hand through his hair in frustration. “I wish things were different. I wish I could bring you back home with me. I wish people saw you like I do. But things aren’t good right now. And I can’t risk you again. But I... I have to go back for now. And I’m not sure how long until I can come back.”

“Steve, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I know. And I’m fine. Really.” His expression must not at all have been convincing, because Steve plops down next to Bucky, and grabs his hand.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. I hate that I have to leave you again.” Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand. “Just promise me you’ll stay safe,” he whispers. “And come back to me.”

“Always.”

***

They spend three more luxurious day swimming, hiking, lazing around. At night they lie entwined, two genetically perfected bodies, fitting perfectly together. They are bothered by nothing and no one.

The day Steve leaves he’s given a farewell lunch and he graciously thanks the royals for their hospitality, and Bucky’s mouth feels dry and sour, but he keeps up appearances, for everyone’s sake. Shuri squeezes his hand under the table and Bucky is ever grateful for her continued friendship. He’s glad he’ll have her around after Steve leaves or he’s not sure how he’ll be able to cope otherwise.

They give them some privacy as Bucky escorts Steve back to his jet. They don’t say much; words have never been needed between them. Still, Steve grabs hold of Bucky, squeezes him tight, and whispers in his ear: “Don’t do anything stupid, kay?”

Bucky smiles against his shoulder, but it’s sad and bittersweet. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve places his hands on Bucky’s cheeks and looks him in the eyes. “I’m coming back,” he says fervently, and Bucky knows Steve doesn’t make idle promises. He nods once, a brisk flick of his head, and Steve kisses him goodbye.

***

Bucky and Shuri sit on the grass, watching the sun set. She is braiding a small plait on the side of Bucky’s head as he stares off into the distance. “How have you been sleeping?” she asks, her fingers never losing their place.

He shrugs minutely. “OK. Some nights I don’t. Some nights I’m out till the morning, if a nightmare doesn’t get me.” He shrugs again. “I miss Steve,” he tells her, surprised at his own honesty. 

“I know. It’s been two weeks and I know he contacts you every day. Or you’d be more of a lost puppy,” she jokes.

“It’s nice. To be able to talk to him at least. Nice to hear his voice. I just wish I was there with him, you know? I hate not knowing if he’s safe or not.”

“You know him better than anyone,” she simply says, and ties off the end of the plait. She looks pleased with the result. “Maybe one day you will join him, when you are ready. When things are not so...volatile.”

Bucky looks at her and a smile slowly spreads on his face. “One day. Soon.”

  


END.

  
  



End file.
